


onwards toward the northern lights

by fuscience



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuscience/pseuds/fuscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And what exactly am I like, cupcake?” Carmilla raises a lone eyebrow expecting messy, irritating, disrespectful, thoughtless, selfish - the list could go on for days really, she knows how Laura can talk, and she’s not too terribly interested in hearing it.</p>
<p>“Sad.” Laura shrugs and turns back to her computer, abruptly ending the conversation and  leaving Carmilla staring at her, swallowing down the wave of emotion that struggles to make it’s way up her throat now. </p>
<p>------</p>
<p>Laura knows this is all a bad idea. She just doesn't particularly care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	onwards toward the northern lights

**Author's Note:**

> tweaks on canon, missing scenes  
> lmk spelling, grammar, missing punctuation etc.

 

So, her roommate’s a horrible person. Nothing new.

Laura’s known this basically since the moment Carmilla pocketed a wad of cash out of Betty’s jeans not two days after the girl had gone missing. That’s really beside the point - compassion should be somewhere inside everyone - maybe deep, deep, deep, _deep_ down, but it should still be there. College has been an eye-opener for Laura, in as many ways possible, and not just that it’s legal for a school to require indentured servitude to repay damages or that she could possibly die in her intro to psych final (Laura’s still wondering if there’s going to be an opt out option for that last test), but that things and people are not as clear as she sometimes wishes they would be.

“Look, not to put a damper on your heroics, but have you ever considered not running headfirst into unforeseen dangers? ever considered running in the opposite direction while you haven’t been marked for death?” Carmilla’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, book spread out, pages dog-eared and torn - it looks well-loved in the way that books do.

“As a matter of fact the thought has occurred,” Laura swivels her chair so hard that she has to use her legs to stop turning, “and then it went away because normal people don’t leave others to certain death.”

“Oh, is that a fact, cupcake?” She’s smiling in that oh-so-condescending way that Laura hates because who is Carmilla to call her a child and Laura does not need to be told what is right or wrong or safe or dangerous by the grown-ups - and between the two of them Carmilla, with her moldy plates and red thongs lying about, is definitely lower than her on the maturity scale.. Ii think you highly overestimate the human race. An unattractive quality if I ever saw one.”

“Somehow your judgement of character doesn’t really place high on the list of things I take into account when making decisions and living life.”

“Your loss, honey bunches of oats. I have oodles of wisdom seeping from my veins” Carmilla tries to keep a straight face, really she does, but she also wasn’t exactly lying when she’d said Laura’s bunched up nose and lips are adorable. So, the small laughs that escape aren’t her fault, although they do have the added bonus of increasing the rage on her roommate’s face - it’s turning an ugly-cute shade of puce.

“Listen you morose monster! You’re lack of empathy is what is highly disturbing and your overabundance of apathy is also highly concerning.”

Carmilla holds a hand to her chest, ignoring the actual real sting ( _monster, monster, monster, you are a monster she had screamed_ ). “Oh, sweetheart, are you concerned about me?”

“NO.”

“Am I upsetting you?” she lifts her eyebrows and Laura’s nostrils flare which is also unattractive in Carmilla’s opinion - like everything else about her holier-than-thou roommate.

“NO.”

“The vein throbbing in your forehead may disagree with that statement.” She sing-songs back mockingly.

“Who ruined you?” Laura sneers, throwing her hands up in the air as her anger boils over.

“My mother.” Carmilla deadpans, but she’s angry too now, centuries have just left her better at hiding it. She’s not angry at Laura though, she’s angry at herself for letting something _real_ slip out - it’s not anything she’d prefer to happen. Ever. A pointed silence blankets the room and she can practically see the apology bubbling up in Laura’s throat as she works her jaw back and forth, pale and contrite, because cruelty doesn’t come easy to her roommate, not like it does to her. “Calm down, buttercup. It was a joke and i’d rather not be responsible for your aneurysm. My apathy is a product of my own choosing - none outside the norm resulted from inadequate parenting.”  She gets off the bed and grabs her bag stuffing a book inside and heading towards the door..

“My mother’s dead.” Carmilla’s hand stops on the door knob and Laura’s not stupid, people don’t joke about their parents - not really. So, she gets it. Maybe not in the same way, but Laura knows a little bit about parents hurting you - even if they’re not there to see it happen.

The door opens and there’s a sharp click as it closes, but Laura hears her all the same. _mine too._

* * *

 

Laura returns around eight from her weekly  dinner with Danny, interrupted by the appearance of LaFontaine and her floor don which had quickly dissolved into nothing Laura really wanted a part in (a debate on the resourcefulness of Greek society and their part in perpetuating myths about immoral beings belonging to ultimate power) All of which ultimately ended in Kirsch walking over and joining the argument, to Danny’s utter dismay, on her side - apparently a love of mythology was the one thing the Summer Society and Zeta’s happened to share. Laura hadn’t seen Kirsch this excited about an academic topic since he began pulling British biscuits and beer out of his duffle bag in the early days of the Dudescorts (patent pending). LaFontaine was of the opinion that these myths were brought into being out of a desire to continue an imbalance of power and restructure the class system based on the belief that certain people - who were already empowered - were further boosted up as these god’s chosen prophets and builders (not an altogether original concept either they pointed out as the Chinese and certain societies in Africa had been doing it for centuries before and religion, in it’s broadest form, had continued classist ideas across the world for centuries). Danny argued that regardless of the purpose for the myths the system had also taken heart with morals and lessons, spawning literature and art and philosophy that influenced and mobilized generations of thought - considering her position in the Summer Society it was a predictable belief and Laura was convinced that LaF had chosen this predicate precisely because she knew it would get a rise out of the towering red-head. It had recently come to Laura’s attention that Danny and LaFontaine did not, could not, and would not get along. It almost ruined the pie. Almost.

Needless to say, not even Carmilla could make her evening worse - although she’s sure an effort will probably be made. Her father used to always say a good defense, was a good offense and Laura, despite her misgivings with her father’s overprotectiveness, took his words to heart the majority of the time.

“Ah. there you are!” Carmilla briefly looks up from her book at Laura’s exclamation, “I was afraid you’d possibly moved from the exact same position I left you in six hours ago.”

“‘Idleness as such is by no means a root of evil; on the contrary, it is truly a divine life, if one is not bored.’” From time to time, Carmilla likes to stop ignoring her and instead, quote unfortunately relevant philosopher’s, leaving Laura sighing and walking away in confusion. Not today though, she’d just suffered through over thirty minutes of her friends fighting over the legitimacy of myth-making in regards to population theology and power bartering  and Carmilla’s passive aggressive quoting wasn’t going to do it today.

“What are you reading?” Carmilla ignores her, of course,  and Laura rolls her eyes, sitting down at her computer before rolling over in her chair and plucking the book out of the vampire’s hands.

“Hey!”

“‘I see it all perfectly; there are two possible situations - one can either do this or that. My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it - you will regret both’ Wooooow. nice uplifting reading you’ve got there.”

Carmilla frowns at her, looking personally offended. “Just because something is truthful and realistic in regards to the human state does not make it ugly or degrading. Kierkegaard is ageless and entirely too appropriate no matter what apperance the world makes of itself.” Carmilla frowns, arm dropping to prop her head up as she lounges across her bed attempting to glare at the tiny, annoying human. “He is one of the few products of the 20th century I am sad to have missed.”

Laura smiles endearingly at her, shaking her head in thought. Carmilla is unearingly honest, although she never really tells the truth. She is unshakingly beautiful, but all she can speak of is horror and well, Laura would be reluctant to use the word enamored, but curious might be an acceptable word to describe her feelings for Carmilla ( _if one does not think of thief, distasteful, vulgar, lewd, chaotic, frustrating_ ) “I’ve never met someone like you.” she throws the book back to Carmilla who snatches it out of the air, eyes flickering towards the random crack of thunder outside the dorm.

“And what exactly am I like, cupcake?” Carmilla raises a lone eyebrow expecting _messy, irritating, disrespectful, thoughtless, selfish_ \- the list could go on for days really, she knows how Laura can talk, and she’s not too terribly interested in hearing it.

“Sad.” Laura shrugs and turns back to her computer, abruptly ending the conversation and  leaving Carmilla staring at her, swallowing down the wave of emotion that struggles to make it’s way up her throat now. Laura Hollis has no idea how much her words affect people - it will make her a great writer someday. She sets down her copy of Kierkegaard’s _Either/Or_ , spine up on the bed - and flashes her eyes at the window, already seeing one of the librarians misting up at the glass, angry at the second infraction. they back off briefly at the sight of Carmilla.

“I’m not sad.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not.” Laura turns back to her.

“Okay. Jeesh. I agreed with you. It wasn’t a judgement. It was just something I saw. Doesn’t make it true, right? Aren’t you the one always ranting about unreliable narrators in your books.” She responds.

“Well, yeah.” Carmilla bobs her head, furrowing her eyebrows, confused.

“Then consider me an unreliable narrator, okay?”

Carmilla nods again, a little shaken. “Okay.”

Laura smiles and Carmilla does not find it enchanting whatsoever.

* * *

 

"You're mother is the dean." Laura doesn't say it like a question, so Carmilla doesn't say anything, doesn't even look at her. "I thought your mother was... you said..." She looks a little lost and Carmilla grinds her teeth together, nose curling in disgust at herself. She hadn't lied - she _hadn't -_ but she can't explain this, her history, what she is and what her mother has made her into - not without thinking of darkness and wood and rot that permeates every part of her being. 

 

" _Laura._ " 

 

"No. You know what?" Laura shakes her head and smiles like she's swallowing acid, "I'm sorry - it's none of my business. I shouldn't have - I mean. It's okay."

 

It's not.

 

* * *

 

It smells like her. Human.

Carmilla’s body, with it’s sterility, unaging, unmoving, like stone, tends to take longer than normal to build up a respectable amount of B.O. The candles she lights at night serve the dual purpose of warding off the darkness of a room with no stars and to give scent to the things that surround her. Laura won't speak to her unless it's yelling at her to clean or yelling at her to move or yelling at her to stop stealing or - well, Laura's not really speaking to her.

The pillow is better than the candles and Carmilla’s not really ready to think about why.

* * *

 

 "So, the Dean is...?" Laura trails off, pursing her lips in thought while Carmilla sits tied to the chair, frowning, sighing, and rolling her eyes towards the heaven.

 

"You have me tied to the chair and _that's_ what you ask?" 

 

Camilla looks offended. Laura looks offended. This whole thing is a mess really. Laura realizes now that tying up her vampire roommate for an indefinite period of time may not have been the best strategy especially when that vampire was Carmilla who had an unnatural ability to make Laura feel silly even when she was the one wrapped in ropes and garlic wearing a corset and ridiculously tight leather pants.

 

"I - uh - well, _yeah_." 

 

"She's my maker." It means something that Laura finds the twist of Carmilla's lips so attractive and she thinks how that night might have gone if it had been a real date and not just a ploy. It probably would have been great.

 

"Oh. So, you didn't.. " _lie to me._

 

Laura doesn't finish the sentence and she doesn't need to, Carmilla's got the beginning of a smile on her face and the tips of her ears are turning red as Laura intertwines their hands - an utterly awkward position considering Carmilla's are tied to the chair, but neither of them really care at the moment.

 

* * *

 

The assistant is a young man with horns and webbed fingers, who doesn’t return Laura’s offer to shake hands.

“I’m here to see the Dean. or any member of the board available.” Laura’s head peeks over the tall desk, perched on a lifted marble pedestal to give the appearance of further authority. It is only through the shorter, slotted section that Laura can be seen from the chest up as opposed to simply being a floated head.

“I recognize you.” Laura is beginning to understand that that isn’t a good thing. “You cost my predecessor her job - sneaking into meetings unauthorized and such.”

Carmilla is laughing behind her as Laura flushes and stutters out an apology, “I-I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you are. People like you have no business sticking your nose in places it doesn’t belong.”

“People like -” Laura sputters, indignant and insulted and now, completely unapologetic.

“He means human, sweetheart. Don’t bust a nut” Carmilla speaks up behind her, resting a calming hand on the small of her back. It was really kind of her to come along, especially after the whole starvation and imprisonment thing of which Laura feels completely, absolutely horrible about - she’s still suspicious, centuries old vampire/evil minion comes with pages of footnotes that Laura has yet to go through, that Carmilla may never even let her read. She manages to ignore the heat that blooms around her touch, focusing on the two-horned problem at hand.

“And young and foolish.” the assistant finishes. “No one behind those doors will be seeing you today.”

Carmilla prepares herself to grab the slightly smaller girl around the waist and physically haul her from the room if she attempts to jump the desk and strangle the kelpie sitting in his chair, but is pleasantly surprised when the girl takes the more passive aggressive route - it’s an option that Carmilla finds very gratifying and often underutilized. Laura merely scans the desk, smiling once she finds what she needs, and says, “You’re calendar is from the wrong year. And that’s poison oak in the vase.” It leaves the water spirit stunned and muttering ugly epithets about humans and their concepts of time and the vulgarities of this land and lack of respect and, of course, the right calendar is just in the other room and he will retrieve it immediately.

“You go do that. we’ll go figure out why the campus is turning into an outtake from Dawn of the Dead and Veggietales - in case you weren’t aware there were giant mushrooms popping up around the quad.” Laura turns on her heel, storming out as calmly as a girl on a mission can, Carmilla slinking after her.

As soon as they round the corner, she leans down to whisper in her ear, “Very badass cupcake.” and it’s the first time Laura’s felt like smiling all day.

* * *

 

 

“Break from the portobello incursion? There is still the matter of the unaccounted for undergrads.” LaFontaine sits hunched over on their bed, rifling through a book Carmilla had left on her bed.

Laura frowns and side-eyes Carmilla who’s sitting up and looking at her for approval - the scent of fungicide and smoke permeate their room and it's really unpleasant to say the least. “Yeeaaah.That sounds good.”

“So? Library?” LaF looks at her and then Carmilla, then back to her.

Laura sighs and reaches to turn on her camera. Carmilla flops down on the bed, sighing loudly enough so that they both know her opinion on the subject..

“Library.”

* * *

 

They smell of ash and brimstone and yeah, a little bit like sulfur, and Laura’s got a cut in the shape of the Bering Strait across her cheek, while Carmilla’s lip is split and bleeding, but they laugh and Carmilla clutches their prize, an ancient Sumerian tome recovered from the basements, underneath her arms as they crouch behind the L-Z stacks in the Western European section. LaF yells out from the exit a loud _are you two alive?_ and Laura quickly returns with a shout of victory that echoes around before being answered with a resounding whoop. This feels like so much more than it actually is, but that’s the magic of Silas - everything is more that what it seems to be.

So, Laura kisses her. She stands and grabs Carmilla’s shoulder from where she’s peering around the corner of the shelves, looking for the fire-breathing lizard that had followed them from the library’s depths and turns her around. She stares for a solid second, taking in the sight of Carmilla’s windswept hair and healing wounds, and then presses her lips to Carmilla’s, who drops the book in surprise, arms spreading like a bird about to take flight, before grabbing Laura’s face and pressing in harder, pushing them back and banging up against mid-15th century Chinese literature ( _thank goodness Laura can’t understand Mandarin, or Turkish, or Tibetan, or Jurchen or any other language the books are hurling at them otherwise her face would be as red as a tomato. Carmilla teases her later, dropping hints at how the literature felt about them defiling their shelves_ ).

“We shouldn’t -” Laura stops, pulling back, hands still gripping her face, “this is like a bad idea wrapped in a wrong decision and I - “ Carmilla leans in to kiss her again because, yeah, that’s probably true, but it’s never stopped her before - bad decisions have kind of been her specialty since the 19th century, and Laura quickly shuts up, meeting her the last few centimeters so, Carmilla feels this isn’t _as bad_ as either of them may think.

So, Laura kisses Carmilla in the middle of the stacks and _this is important_. She _kisses_ Carmilla. It’s a decision and with Carmilla licking her way into her mouth, wrapping her finger around a singed piece of Laura’s hair, she can’t think of a single reason why she thought it was the wrong one. (It’s not. It’s really not.)

* * *

 

“What took y’all so long? trying to figure out whether it was a Hungarian Horntail frosh?” LaF stands, homemade flamethrower lying nonchalantly against the burnt edges of their shoes.

Laura licks her lips, eyes widening with innocence, tucking her hands behind her back for extra effect, “Nope. just uh, had smoke in my eye. made it a little hard to find my way.”

Carmilla stays silent next to her, arms brushing, smugness radiating off in waves and Laura yelps when she walks forward - Carmilla’s hand brushing her ass.

* * *

 

Mushrooms are still growing in the quad and the intramural fields and the library entrance and reports are coming in that the Lustig building has once again become a target - for fire or fungus Laura’s not really sure, but Perry’s handing out fungicide like it’s black friday, hoping that it’s going to stop the spores turning students into the walking dead.

 

(“They are not zombies, the spores have merely sent them into some type of shock.”

“In a manner of speaking you’re not wrong, but did student health services happen to mention the side effect of craving human flesh?”

Perry’s face pales as one toddering girl falls and another drops to take a large bite out of her ankle and LaFontaine grabs her in one hand, chemical filled pump in the other wandering off towards a group of students fighting off a ten-foot toadstool.)

It won’t.

“How can they just ignore us? Ignore this?” Laura points to a handful of mushrooms that are quickly multiplying into a small grove and Carmilla shrugs - she’d be amused if her semi-sort of paramour (minus the married and the sex, but there’s definitely something illicit going on between them) wasn’t seating herself directly in the middle of this deadly disaster. “UGH.”

“I’m guessing by the look on your face we should not be expecting help from the university leadership.” Laura turns and smiles hopefully as Danny comes jogging up, ignoring the way Carmilla moves to breathe over her shoulder and glare. She also ignores how Danny ignores Carmilla - it’s better that way.

“No go. We couldn’t even get in the door, but it seems like they care as much about magic mushrooms as they do about the general welfare of the students, or what goes into friday’s rotating mystery dinner.” Danny laughs and they can almost pretend she didn’t storm out of her room a week ago and Laura hadn’t been insensitive as all hell towards her.

“Yo, summer psy-, um -” Kirsch jogs up, “I mean, Dan -” He stops again, face screwed up in confusion, and Danny turns to him, eyes rolling to the sky.

“What do you want, Kirsch?”

He clears his throat, “Yeah, right, was wondering if I could get your help tying up a patch. It keeps moving and we got to keep it still so some of the bros can slay it.” His hands pantomime a slashing motion toward the ground, before looking up earnestly at her.

“Sure, i’ll be right there dumbass.” Kirsch smiles way to brightly for what Danny calls him, “I’ll see you later, nerd-hot - Laura.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Laura waves awkwardly, watching her T.A. go,  and Carmilla pinches the back of her elbow “Ow!” She turns to face her roommate who’s staring blankly at her, “What the hell, Carm?”

Carmilla just shrugs and rests her hand on Laura’s waist, “Just go say whatever the fuck you actually want to say to her and let’s go.”

“Oh.” a small smile edges up Laura’s lips and she doesn’t understand how Carmilla makes her smile, despite her misanthropic attitude. “Wait for me?”

“Of course, cupcake.”

* * *

 

“Hey. Danny?” Laura stands back, head bowed, watching her and Kirsch attempt to pull the rope tight enough so they can meet and tie a knot around the offending fungus that has sprouted some type of pseduopod appendages and is attempting to dodge puffs of poison.

Danny doesn’t look at her, yanking on the rope from one end while Kirsch tugs on the other. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” The rope slides out of Danny’s hand and there’s a high-pitched yelp on the opposite side as Kirsch falls. “I acted horribly. I was completely out of line and had no right asking anything of you and - “

“Laura.” Danny stands and faces her, eyes wide.

“You’re my friend and i’m not very good at accepting judgement because you were right. and everything has just been so tense these past few weeks with the missing girls and I -”  
  


“Laura!” The smaller girl startles, “Breathe.” She does. “I wasn’t right. I mean - at least not all right. What you did with the library was stupid and dangerous, especially considering you still haven’t read the student handbook.”

“ _I’m working on it._ ” She interjects defensively.

“But it was your decision to make. I was out of line, too. I-I think part of me was just angry you didn’t call me for help. I’m used to being relied on, being the person people can depend on to protect them, and I felt like i’d failed - that you couldn’t come to me.”

“Danny - that’s not - “

“I _also_ didn’t like that you took the bio major.” Danny scowls, grumbling, but the moment passes and she smiles softly at Laura, “You don’t have to check in with me or warn me when you’re making a decision because that’s you. Just... next time call me maybe? I know it’s not my job to protect you, but I still don’t like the idea of my friends getting hurt. I promise to listen to any reasons you come up with as to why we should do a dangerous, possibly deadly thing.”

Laura smiles, shaking her head in agreement. “And i promise to listen to why we shouldn’t do the dangerous, hopefully-not-deadly thing.”

“Fair enough.” Danny’s radiant and warm, just like Laura remembers the first day she walked into Lit class, but it’s a general warmth. Her insides don’t boil or take flight, and there’s no burning path along her skin where she touches her. It’s friendly and familiar, but not forever.

Carmilla stands waiting in the distance, mushrooms and infected not veering her way - Laura has a theory that they’re too scared to come near her aura of doom, but this just makes Carmilla laugh, although she doesn’t deny it..

“So? you make up with the jolly ginger giant?”

“Yeah.” They turn together and begin to walk away.

“For the record, I would’ve done it _and_ without getting all pissy.”

“And for the record, that is still highly unethical.” Laura leans up to kiss her on the cheek before going ahead, “But thanks anyway. For everything”

Carmilla lifts her hand and rubs her cheek, which is quickly turning red to match the tips of her ears, ( _shouldn’t be possible, it’s not possible, it’s all in her head - fucking Laura Hollis can’t make her fucking blush_ ) before grunting and jogging to catch up. She grabs Laura’s hand as a wave of spores heads their way and pulls her forward, not letting go until they reach the safety of the storage room.

* * *

 

In the timeline of things, Laura’s really not sure where this falls. Maybe somewhere between upload 27 or 28? The vlog has become a blurred commitment of the little red light blinking on and off at intermittent points in her life.

Carmilla comes home one night ( _and home, when did this tiny room become home?_ ) with a bruise smeared across her cheek and Laura, eyes wide in worry, lifts a hand to trace the mark. Her hand alights gently on the discolored skin and Carmilla is still staring off blankly at some point behind her shoulder and it’s a while before her eyes refocus and she reaches up to grab Laura’s hand, stopping the ministrations. She frowns looking at the hand in hers, really not much smaller, but so much younger and there’s nothing there below the surface. There’s very few layers to Laura Hollis, nearly everything is right there at the edge, all you have to do is look and she’ll draw you in like something wonderful and addicting ( _Carmilla’s drug of choice, her mother loved to say, was humanity_ ). But how do you explain that you lashed out at the professor (who also happens to be a manticore) in the twisted hope that maybe you’d get hit back, that maybe it would hurt, that maybe something would stay with you longer than a moment before disappearing ( _there are scars so deep in your body that no one can find them but you, and they hurt, they hurt, even after centuries they sting like vinegar on an open wound_ ).

Carmilla takes a step forward and crowds her against the dresser, finally looking her in the eye as she leans in.

“I’m going to kiss you, like really kiss you, none of that peck on the cheek crap, and if you don’t,” Carmilla licks her lips and watches a stray hair fall across Laura’s face, “want me to -  if you don’t want _me._ “

Laura shakes her head, ignoring the way Carmilla’s voice cracked and pleaded.  “Shut up.” So, Carmilla kisses her. And kisses her. And kisses her.

“I want you.” Laura murmurs softly against her lips and she tugs on the bottom of Carmilla’s shirt and pulls them back into bed. They curl up together facing each other and Carmilla rarely strays from her lips, dragging a few feathery touches onto her nose and cheeks, kissing her eyes closed, before returning so that she can nudge Laura’s lips apart with her tongue and pretend her face isn’t still throbbing with pain, that her ribs are not busting themselves into correct alignment. Carmilla falls asleep with their lips still touching and wonders at the irony of how happy she feels when it all could end so soon and her idle wish of wanting anything less effervescent than a kiss. She thinks how right her mother always is and hates it.

* * *

 

They sit together in bed the next afternoon, Carmilla’s head resting on Laura’s shoulder as she trudges through the introductory paragraph of a lit paper that, if she’s being honest with herself, will probably never be finished - either due to her dying or being too busy _not dying_.

Perry knocks on the door and doesn’t say a word about their position, just that Kirsch is babysitting LaF who is still rolling around her bed muttering on and off about parties and lights. Her tone says nothing has changed, that there’s no hope, but Carmilla’s pinky is intertwined with Laura's and it doesn’t feel like that anymore.

* * *

 

Carmilla crawls in through the window one night ( _goddammit this better not be a thing she’s going to do now - coming back late at night, injured into the warmth of this dinky little dorm room_ ). Her hand is clutched to her side and she’s breathing harshly, inhaling through her nose, trying to ignore how she smells like an old shoe dipped in a vat of whiskey. A puddle collects at her feet and her boots squeak against the floor as she steps unevenly forward. It’s not her at her most collected Carmilla will admit, but she’s a centuries old vampire - this is really nothing, she can sneak into her own dorm room ( _She’s not even sure why she’s sneaking, it’s not like she particularly cares if Laura gets enough rest. Not at all._ ) She trips into the desk, banging her one good knee against the side, and begins swearing loudly in German and Icelandic - to the detriment of her roommate’s sleeping patterns.

“Wha-? Carm?” Laura shoots up in bed, eyes still half-closed. It’s four in the morning and Laura has a German test in five hours that she’s pretty sure she’ll pass, if barely, but that’s only if she’s awake enough to hold a pencil - which is now less definite than it was when she went to bed three hours ago. “Why did you come in through the window?” There’s a storm raging outside and Carmilla turns angrily to slam the window shut, the sound reverberating off the walls.

“No reason.” She mumbles, limping over to her bed as Laura rubs the sleep from her eyes. She reaches over to turn on the small lamp on her right and a patch of red and purple is blooming across the ribs of her side, peeking through the cut out sides of her tanktop. Laura makes a strangled noise of panic.

“What happened to you?! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, you’re bleeding.”

“Calm down, creampuff - I won’t be in about ten minutes.” This is really  not a pattern she wants to establish, coming home in tatters to Laura’s soft, human hands, puttering around and patching her up - soothing her mind while she licks the wounds on her heart.

“But - “

“I’m fine.” The words come out harsher than she intends and Carmilla moves away, curling in defensively, but Laura doesn’t falter, meeting her step for step until she can wrap her hands around Carmilla’s waist.

“That is not the word I would be using to describe you right now.”

“Sweetheart, i’m hurt - you don’t think i’m fine? Look at me.” Carmilla mockingly runs a hand down her side, and Laura blushes, deciding not to dignify that with a response, eyebrows still creased with worry.

“I am. You’re soaked and freezing. I - let me run a shower for you and- and I’ll get you some dry clothes.”

“Don’t bother. I’d rather sleep anyway.” Laura’s watches a rivulet of diluted blood run down her thumb across Carmilla’s thin, bony waist before looking up at her.

“You can’t sleep like this.” Carmilla grunts in annoyance, “Let me help.” Laura twists the bottom of Carmilla’s shirt in her hands and the other girl’s eyes widen in surprise, “um, here.”

Laura peels off her shirt slowly. “Is this okay?” she says, moving her hands to the hem of her pants next.

“I’m not drunk, cupcake. it i wanted to stop you I would.” Laura’s silent as she unbuttons Carmilla’s pants, pushing down on the sticky leather, ignoring how part of Carmilla’s right leg seems to bend a little under the pressure, until she’s kneeling between her legs, “Not gonna lie,” Carmilla slurs out, feeling one part mean and one part horny “I’ve had a couple dreams that began like this. And ended like this, for that matter.”

“Don’t Carm. Not now.”  She doesn’t stop, face twisting cruelly in anger ( _at herself, at her, always her - such a fucking fuck up_ ).

“Right. Laura, Laura, Laura, wouldn’t want to upset you and your pure little mind. What fucking bullshit. As if you haven’t thought about it. Kissing me in the library. Letting me kiss you in this room. I’m very good with my hands too, sweetheart, just so you know.” Carmilla sneers, lips curling up, but it falls away when Laura looks up at her, concern written across her eyes, and the room quiets.

Carmilla tangles her hands in Laura’s hair for leverage as she steps out of her pants, Laura making quick work of her boots. They move to the bathroom to finish and Carmilla leans on Laura for support even though she doesn’t need it, doesn’t deserve it at the moment.

“Mmmmm. Do you know how hard I have to work to get this drunk? Like really hard.” Laura stands and pulls the shirt off her head, knowing there’s a lot of memories Carmilla would probably like to drink away. She nudges Carmilla’s arms upward before tossing the material aside and reaching behind to unclasp her bra. Carmilla hisses when the movement stretches the skin around right ribs, still purpled and bleeding and bruised. The water pounds in the background as it falls to the floor and Carmilla lowers her arms, but makes no move to cover herself muttering.  “‘Wine comes in at the mouth and loves comes in at the eye; That’s all we shall know for truth, before we grow old and die.’ Yeats - writer, romantic, but a shitty person outside ideologies and politics.” Cold rain water drips down Carmilla’s nose  and, not for the first time, is Laura hit by the realization that Carmilla is hauntingly beautiful - even soaked to the bone, standing in her underwear smelling like the dredges of a cask, quoting 20th century Irish poetry. She slides the glass door and pushes her vampire in under the flow of water, gingerly avoiding the quickly healing wound in her side, and watches the water turn pink for a moment before discarding most of her own clothes - leaving on her tanktop and underwear and stepping in after.

“I had a nightmare.” Carmilla says, leaning into Laura, letting the water tentatively hit her shoulders. Laura watches forlornly as she curls in a little on herself, like a child scared of the dark.

“Oh?” It’s the first thing she’s said since Carmilla’s biting remarks and Carmilla tries to ignore how relief floods her body at the sound. Laura continues to nudge her under the stream, directing Carmilla’s sluggish, pained movements and then, proceeds to lather some shampoo into her hands, curling them into Carmilla’s dark locks while the other girl continues to talk. Carmilla tends to babble on bad nights, in a surprising role-reversal, speaking nonsensical words to anyone but herself and Laura lets her - god knows, she’s used talking as a coping mechanism for long enough to respect it in someone else. The skin on Carmilla’s side has sealed up, but the shifting of broken bone is still visible as her ribs attempt to realign with her sternum and if Laura could pick out an adjective to describes the stretch of Carmilla’s skin it would be crunchy. The color - beat-up blue and rusty pick-up truck red.

“She slit her throat and collected the blood and poured it into my grave. She twisted my body to reveal my nature, breaking my bones and puncturing my lungs. she held my heart and crushed it. and it regrew and this time she squeezed until it fell apart between her fingers. And I let her.” They don’t need to say who the her is.

“Close your eyes.”  Laura demands and she stops talking, following the order as Laura tips her head back under the stream of water, washing out the shampoo, and she doesn’t reopen them until the beat of droplets on her head has stopped. When Carmilla opens her eyes again she’s immediately looking at Laura. Laura, who’s pressed so close to her in this tiny space that Carmilla’s half convinced the heat’s coming from her body and not the boiling shower water. Laura whose hands have dropped to hers and whose thumbs are tracing small circles into her palms that leave patterns of heat along her skin. _Laura, Laura, Laura._ who may hate her as soon as she finds out what deal she’s made. who will hate her for damning the Zeta boy to death in exchange for her life, who will push her away as soon as she knows the extent of Carmilla’s greed and selfishness. It won’t be long now.

“Carmilla?”

Carmilla looks down for a moment and then, pushes a wet strand of Laura’s hair back, tucking it behind her ear before taking a step forward. She crowds Laura back against the tiles, and then leans in to press her lips down on the other girl’s, hands quickly creeping underneath the wet tanktop, groping to find her breasts and Laura kisses her back without question, tasting the inside of her mouth. Fingers pinch a lone nipple and she gasps into her mouth unbiddingly and Carmilla hitches up her leg, tickling behind her knee, so that she can move closer and grind their bodies together. Their hips meet and Laura bucks up without meaning to when the friction hits just right. She feels canines graze her throat and wet, sucking kisses are laid on the skin, tracing down to her collarbone and then, further, pushing up the shirt to latch onto the unattended nipple and Laura can hear herself babbling, _Carmilla, fuck, Carmilla, Carmilla. oh god_. without quite understanding the rush of words.

Carmilla’s mouth edges up to her ear, kissing her lobe, “My heart has never been hardened toward anyone, but I have always made it appear - ”

_oh god, oh god_ Carmilla’s fingers find the line of Laura’s underwear and quickly dive in, circling her clit, rubbing and pressing through the material before pushing it aside and thrusting one lone digit inside her.

“- especially when I was touched most deeply, as if my heart were closed and alien to every feeling.”

“Are you -” Laura pants, grinding herself down onto Carmilla’s hand, “oh god, _are you quoting at me?_ ” A second finger finds it’s way inside her and curls just right to push her closer and the air whooshes out of her chest. “I thought you only did that when you wanted to -” _distract me. push me away_.

Laura fists her hands into Carmilla’s hair at a particularly hard thrust, before using the leverage to pull Carmilla’s head back up so she can kiss her and she should taste horrible, like someone who’s been out in the dirtiest parts of Styria all night, but really Laura doesn’t taste anything, just the pressure of Carmilla everywhere, all over her, and salt.

“Stop.” Carmilla is halfway down her abdomen, dragging kisses across the silvery stretch marks she gained in puberty, one hand gripping her waist before her movements halt and she pulls her fingers out of her. “Stop, Carm.”

Laura licks her lips slowly and tastes the remnants of Carmilla’s tears. “C’mere.” and the other girl moves her head from where it’s resting against her thighs and lets her pull her back into a standing position so Carmilla can’t avoid Laura’s gaze. The water drips steadily around them, hot slowly turning lukewarm.

“It wasn’t your fault. ” Carmilla’s face crumples and Laura _can’t,_ she can’t stop the urge to move closer, to drag her into her arms and hold her and she just keeps whispering, “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Shut up. Shut up.” Carmilla whispers back, voice breaking. Her nails dig into Laura’s side, wetness sliding against her hips, head shaking back and forth against Laura’s neck Her shoulders trembles and it’s all so heartbreaking that Laura almost cries too.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Don’t say that.” She moans piteously, “You don’t know anything.”  and Laura jerks away, grabbing her face so that Carmilla has to look her in the eye.

“You are not responsible for what your mother does. you are a horrible roommate and you have done many horrible things, but this, what happened to her - you loved her. That’s all you did. And she loved you and no matter what you seem to think, loving you is not a death sentence. Love is not - ” Laura loses her train of thought, thumbs caught on the dip of Carmilla’s lower lip as she chokes back her sadness and tries to look down, but Laura holds her face firm, water dripping down between them. “Look at me. Y _ou saved me_. I’m alive because of the decisions you made as are others.” It’s the only evidence Laura can give, it’s all she has to offer.

“There’s always someone else.” There’s a boy she thinks. There’s a boy and three girls and they may die - _they will die_. There’s dozens of others who already have.

“Yeah, maybe, but you gotta learn to take the small victories you stupid, stubborn vampire.” Laura tips their heads together, noses glancing off one another. “This time you have me. This time we’re going to save everyone.”

For once, she almost believes it.

* * *

 

“...almost everyone.” Danny turns away from the camera to look at her, as Perry’s words wash over them, and everyone else quiets. Carmilla’s dead and Laura asked her to do it. She thinks this must be what Carmilla had felt, all those years since Ell - that you don’t have to pull the trigger to kill someone and Laura feels immensely stupid, burying her face in her hands, because how could she have said those things, trying to absolve Carmilla of her guilt when she now sits here wallowing and broken because she led the person she loves to her demise.

And she knows it was Carmilla’s decision, that it was her trying to make up for the centuries of harm she’d caused, for the girls she’d knowingly and unknowingly led into the arms of a creature so old it thought itself a god. And Ell was there so there’s that. (Somehow this doesn’t cheer Laura up. It’s selfish, and Laura wants Carmilla to have a happy ending, but, she believed - she had thought - she had wanted it to be _with her_.)

These thoughts don’t make the nights easier and she passes all her classes thanks to saving the campus and half a dozen students and defeating the actually evil Dean (it was semi-satisfying to have Macgrigor - the kelpie assistant - knocking on her door a day after, apologizing and asking if their was anything he could do. He apparently knows some very good cruise travel agents and could get her a well-priced vacation if Laura felt the need), but it doesn’t make her feel better. None of it really makes her feel _anything_ for that matter until one day Perry comes knocking on the door and drags her into the bathroom, undressing her and pushing her into the shower and Laura starts sobbing under the stream of water because this was where - here is where - and she tries to get the words out, to explain why she’s crying, why she can’t stop, but Perry just opens up a towel for her and lets her exit the shower and walk into it, bundling Laura up and stroking her hair and whispering comforting words and Laura finally understands why Perry’s a great floor don. Not for the cleaning or the neurosis need for normality, but her great capacity to care when the situation requires it.

“Have you thought about making a video?” Perry whispers to her, tucking the bedspread around her drying limbs.

“What?”

“Some people write letters to loved ones they’ve lost, but you and Carmilla’s story… it’s shaped a bit differently. It might help.” Laura stares at her fingers, entangled together and lost. “Just think about it okay?” Perry lays a kiss on her temple, moves the plate of brownies, and a hidden vegetable tray to her head board next to a cup of water and then quietly leaves the room.

“Okay?” she whispers to the room.

There’s no response from the other side and Laura cries again.

* * *

 

So she makes the video and wouldn’t you know it, even from the dead Carmilla manages to ruin her recordings.

* * *

 

“I blamed myself.” Laura says as Carmilla curls into her side, head resting in between her breasts.

“That’s imbecilic.” Laura smiles - she’s so glad Carmilla’s not dead, “pretty sure _someone_ told me you can’t control other’s actions, sweetheart, only your own.”

The smaller girl strokes Carmilla’s hair and a rumble vibrates through them almost like a purr. “Yeah. Logic doesn’t seem to function well in the face of crushing grief.” Carmilla lifts her head, crawling up Laura’s body until she’s leaning over the other girl, hands braced next to her head. and Laura can see the huge grin peeking between her lips.

“Crushing grief, hmmmm? You miss me, cupcake?” she teases.

“Yeah.” hands cup Carmilla’s face and draw her down close so that she drops to her elbows and their bodies press together and foreheads knock, “Yeah, I missed you so much.”

The grin falls and Carmilla just stares softly down at her, slightly stunned. “Oh.”

Laura taps a small kiss on her nose.

“So much.” She smiles up and Carmilla falls in to kiss her deep and long.

****  
  
  
  
  
  



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